


A Wilde Interlude

by HistoriaGloria



Series: Convergence of Fears [3]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: AU: Everyone is an Avatar, Alternate Universe, Character Study, Gen, Lonely!Zolf, Stranger!Wilde, Web!Hamid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23935576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoriaGloria/pseuds/HistoriaGloria
Summary: 'Time, Wilde privately thinks, is difficult.Not the day to day, that’s fairly easy. But the overall passage of time? That is complicated. How long has he been Oscar Wilde? He’s not quite sure. At least a couple of hundred years. Hard to tell when you are a wooden mannequin how long you have worn a face for.'
Series: Convergence of Fears [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696324
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	A Wilde Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I mean, I keep adding to this unexpectedly.  
> This is on Jonny though, the description of the Stranger in MAG 165 was just so incredible and I felt so validated making Wilde part of that, that this happened! So, here you go, have a little more character stuff on Wilde and his interactions with Zolf and Hamid!

Time, Wilde privately thinks, is difficult.

Not the day to day, that’s fairly easy. But the overall passage of time? That is complicated. How long has he been _Oscar Wilde?_ He’s not quite sure. At least a couple of hundred years. Hard to tell when you are a wooden mannequin how long you have worn a face for.

Oscar Wilde.

Honestly, the name has never felt like his own, but that is non-specific. He is of the Stranger, of the entity responsible for destroying identities. His own has been many things prior to _Oscar Wilde_ but still. He has been this for some time.

It doesn’t feel old yet.

Some faces felt old quickly, sloughed off his Uncanny body faster than expected. But this one, _this one,_ feels comfortable.

And has felt comfortable for a long time.

This face is pretty which he likes, especially with his own far too big blue eyes. The voice is lovely too, warm and baritone and well, he is The Siren. The leader of the Choir, the Voice of I Do Not Know You. Oscar Wilde is a wonderful singer.

There is an odd kind of freedom to holding this identity. Recognition is something that slides off members of the Stranger like the Not-Them, but The Siren has always enjoyed it.

It has been especially nice to have an identity when interacting with The Sailor and The Weaver. The Sailor seems to enjoy things being the same which is not something that The Stranger really subscribes to as an entity. But if it makes the Lonely feel better? Wilde supposes he doesn’t mind so much. The Weaver cares less about these kinds of things, but he thinks that’s because the Weaver would be able to tell who he is even if he changed his face.

* * *

He first met the Sailor in Brighton.

It was not an unsurprising place to meet the Sailor, considering its seaside nature, but Wilde was there for the tourist season. Dead-eyed mannequins and paint-peeled carnival horses always were his favourite thing to play with. And tourists are so very easy to draw fear from.

And then, there was the Sailor.

Wilde didn’t know him back then. Wilde only really knew Orsinov and the Not-Them. He had little interest in interacting with any other avatars, despite the many years that he had been, _**well**_ , _alive_ is definitely the wrong word to use. But the point stands.

And yet, there was the Sailor.

He had been barely visible, surrounded by the coiling fog from the sea and he set Oscar’s teeth on edge. But that had been so exciting. Something different.

He had approached, singing a slightly lilting tune under his breath until he had caught the attention of the other man.

“Hello,” Wilde said, the word more song than speech. The Sailor scowled, getting closer to mist himself when he had caught notice of what Wilde was.

“Stranger,” he said, as though from far away.

“The Siren, if you would. The Stranger is my patron, not me myself.” The Sailor’s eyes narrowed and he stopped fading. “You are of the Lonely, yes? But you are not the Lonely itself.”

“Yes,” he said, sounding almost confused. “Sorry. I’m The Sailor, I guess.”

“Hello!” Wilde replied brightly. “What brings you out here? Good pickings for the Lonely?”

“I suppose so. What are you doing?” Wilde cocked his head so far to the side that it made The Sailor wince.

“What do you mean ‘what are you doing?’ I don’t understand.”

“Why are you talking to me?”

“Why not? I’ve never spoken to an Avatar of the Lonely before. Thought it might be fun. Besides, you didn’t run when I spoke to you.” The Sailor blinked. His eyes were the colour of the sea, all green and blue mixed together.

“Right.” Wilde beamed, far too wide for his face and The Sailor winced.

“See, we’re getting on and everything! Unusual for avatars of our humble patrons, but you’re certainly not as bad as Es Mentiras.”

“Thought you would have been pally with them,” grunted the other man and Wilde scowled.

“Es Mentiras? Never. That’s all about lying and falsehoods. I’m all about change!” The Sailor shrugged.

“Not my space to be involved in. Is there something you want, Siren?”

“No, not really. If you have other things to do, don’t let me keep you! It was nice to talk with you, Sailor.” The irony of the Siren and the Sailor getting along had definitely not passed him by.

“I… I suppose there isn’t anything pressing.”

So, they had talked. Wilde had finally gotten The Sailor’s name as Zolf and given his own in return. They had watched the sun set into the sea as Wilde had sung, causing someone to temporarily lose all sense of their own identity and Zolf had caused a few people to forget important possessions. It had been nice, all things considered.

* * *

Two years later, he met the Weaver.

“You’re one of the last, you know,” Hamid said, his fingers steepled in front of his hands as a spider crawled through them, creating a web. “Of the alliances I’ve made.”

“Who was your first?” Wilde sat oddly on the bar stool, his legs in a position which no human could possibly get into.

“The Lady of the Peaks, formally. Though I had tried to convince the Sailor first. He took a little while to come round.”

“Oh, I know Zolf!” Wilde laughed, the sound far too high. Hamid grinned, excited.

“Oh, do go on.”

Wilde had liked the Weaver instantly. The Web and the Stranger really aren’t that far apart when you consider it. Their manipulations just work slightly differently.

“But you said I was the last. Why?” Hamid shrugged, blinking his eight eyes.

“Something is coming, Oscar. I can feel it shuddering the edges of my web. It is going to happen in the next few years.”

“The Unknowing,” Wilde said, with all the certainty in the world.

“Very possibly,” Hamid agreed. It took Oscar three days to realise that Hamid had been indulging and lying to him there. “But I want to be prepared. That is the way of the Mother after all. And my way is by creating alliances. Ergo…”

“Oh, I am very interested, Hamid, don’t doubt that. I have no issue working with others.”

“I know,” Hamid replied. “You are the Siren, the head of the choir. You’re excellent at working with others.” Wilde preened under the praise. “I’m glad to count you in.”

* * *

They make a good little group. Hamid keeps them together and apart when things get heated between Wilde himself and the others. Usually it is The Archer or The Alchemist which get under his skin, which honestly, Wilde enjoys that sensation only when it is himself reapplying his face.

But they achieve things together. Cause havoc.

And honestly, as creature created directly to be chaos incarnate, Wilde is in his element.

He shall keep this face for a little longer.

It is being very useful.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and bother me on [tumblr](https://historia-gloria.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/HistoriaGloria)! I am always here for a chat.


End file.
